Unexpected Guest
by hid4n
Summary: Black receives some information about the whereabouts of White. Slash.


There was nothing more satisfying than gaining the upper hand on an old-time enemy at least, that's how Black saw it.

Shenanigans aside for the day, Black had promptly led up on some intelligence from an anonymous supplier. The information had been called in a few days ago, but Black had a disquieted opinion on it, and thus left it aside while he worked on more pressing matters. The most compelling duties aside, Black was forced to consider the findings disclosed to him.  
Although quite doubtful of the data provided to him, Black managed to convince himself to muse upon the matter for some time before deciding unanimously that it would be worth checking into.

Sliding his slick leather jacket over his slender arms, Black pinned the front up over his thin, black undershirt, pulling at the hem of the fabric to quickly arrange the two fabrics over each other. He arched his back, reaching up to grasp his ebony hair into a loose pony-tail it often got in the way of his missions, and tonight would not be one of those nights. He had a worn out rubber band that he used time after time, its color faded into a ghastly cream. After pulling the band close to the nape of his neck although not near enough to cause pain Black cracked his knuckles, turning to the desk that he organized papers. His leather gloves, as dark as spent charcoal, lay folded neatly beside his favorite pen. As much as he would have loved to preserve them, it was required to do his job, and well. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Black pulled them on, flexing his fingers experimentally.  
Having already been dressed in his glossy jet pants, Black let out a deep sigh, his dark eyes falling upon the half-empty pack of cigarettes that teetered at the opposite end of the desk. He paused, his lithe hands hanging mid-air as he weighed the options. After finding his way to White's alleged location, he wouldn't be able to indulge in such luxuries it would be too risky. Making his decision with the slightest of smirks playing upon his thin lips, Black reached for the well-used package. A cigarette conveniently slipped from the box, brushing against his gloved fingertips. Wasting little time, he found his lighter, flicking it open with the expertise of someone who had smoked for quite some time.  
Black finished his fag with one last puff, pulling the butt from his lips slightly reluctantly. He was risking his mission enough by smoking so close to his engagement time; as such, it wouldn't do for him to bring them along. Crushing the last of the red from his cigarette, Black took a deep breath of clean air as he stepped out the door into the night.

The outside of the motel was quite the sight it was in complete disarray, with the tiles from the dark roof falling in an irregular pattern. The ashen paint was peeling, large portions of the stone exposed to the weather. Come now, White, Black thought, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink from the cold air surrounding him. I know you can do better than this... Regardless, Black knew that it was a good tactic hide within the least habitual of places. The spy couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes now drawn to the dull light that scattered from the single disheveled window belonging to room 201. It was unfortunate to see that it was on the second floor, but it made the mission no more challenging to Black he had engaged in worse. He crouched in the bushes as he began to reminiscence about past commissions.  
It was nearly an hour and a half past Black's original arrival time. He had been dozing peacefully near the end of it when the light suddenly clicked off, leaving him shrouded in darkness. It must had been three in the morning, leaving no other neighbors awake. Peering through strands of his thick fringe, Black studied the window carefully, waiting an additional ten minutes before he was sure there was no movement to be detected near the window.  
Clandestinely slipping from the low brush that he had planted himself in nearly two hours previous, Black subconsciously reached for his knife, latched securely to his belt near his right buttock. It was a convenient place due to his preference of using his right hand during close-combat situations. Unfortunately, if he was in an awkward situation, it could make things difficult. The mission knife hung from his hip, the serrated edge hidden by the deft leather case it was located in. A hungry leer crossed Black's dark face as he slowly approached the stairway.  
There were multiple ways for him to enter, but Black had a tendency to favor the element of surprise when it offered itself. His dark eyes considered the window, the door, then the window once more. It wasn't a matter of what was more accommodating for White, as he was the target here. Stepping back against the railing, his hands gripping the black metallic material, Black was faced with a decision. It was made in a split second as he darted forward, diving through the window with the sound of glass shattering echoing throughout the building. He had successfully concealed his vulnerable face from the shards of glass that fell on him, but elsewhere he was not so lucky. An intense, radiating pain erupted at the base of his throat, right below his right collarbone. Stifling a cry of agony, Black having crouched after his elaborate entrance reached up with his gloved hand and tried to locate the source of the rippling sting. Pulling a small shard of glass from his wound, Black thanked the heavens that it had not gone in deeper with the general location, it could have been fatal. Dropping the bloodied glass fragment to the floor, Black was made aware of the carpeting beneath his shoes. It would be difficult for the manager of the motel to get these stains out.  
Touching his right hand against the carpet to steady himself, Black raised himself and moved stealthily across the room, careful not to cause anymore noise than he already had. The carpet had repressed the sound of the glass falling, but the actual breaking of the window had been quite loud. Black cautiously watched for any kind of movement, his back against some sort of wall. Again, nothing stirred in the darkness.  
The gloom was absolute, but Black's concentration was not his focus had seemed to become shattered along with the window to his right. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dusk within the room, Black shifted forward, testing his surroundings. There was a table to his left with what felt to be an antique lamp, the switch near the top. An object, black and looming, was a few feet in front of him the image of a couch appeared to Black. Crawling forward, he touched the corner of the mass, running his fingers along the fabric. His first guess was correct the couch was crusty from who knew what. Resisting the urge to gag, Black rocked on his heels for a moment, surveying the rest of the room, his eyes now comfortable with the lack of light. A slight movement to his left sent his hand flying for his knife, but his hand never made it to his waist before an intense pain bloomed over the back of his head. A flash of dark color crossed Black's vision as he felt the floor tilt toward him, beating red until he could see no more. Slowly, the sound of shuffling feet disappeared into the distance, and he felt himself fade along with them.


End file.
